


Different Ways of Caring

by TheBleedingVicar



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Drunk Fic, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBleedingVicar/pseuds/TheBleedingVicar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This starts out as a drabbly honesty fic, turns into something that looks like it's going to be a long, serious work, and then turns into a drunk!fic and ends on gen. So. Basically, sorry. It's weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Ways of Caring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raven (singlecrow)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlecrow/gifts).



McCoy watched Spock pass by his office and go into Sickbay silently. They’d rescued an injured young Vulcan girl from a Romulan ship where she’d been being held, and they were taking her back home. They’d been a sector away from Vulcan at the time though, and they were still only halfway there. He turned his attention back to the paperwork on his PADD until Spock walked out again a while later.

Spock nodded to him. “Doctor.”

“Spock, do you have any connection to this girl that you’re not telling anyone about?” McCoy asked, getting straight to what he’d been wondering for days, ever since the second time he had visited T’ren.

Spock frowned. “Not that I am aware of, Doctor. However, the house of Sarek does have multiple, ancient links, and thus may be distantly related to the house of Vekek in a manner that I do not know of.”

“‘I don’t think so’ would have sufficed, you know.”

“I did not know why you were asking, and so believed that supplying detail would be the best course of action. Why were you asking?”

“You’ve been in there a lot, that’s all. It was weirding me out, seeing you that much.”

Spock stiffened and his voice froze. “Despite what you believe, Doctor, I am not ‘heartless’. If a young girl is injured and would benefit from interaction with an adult figure of her own species – something that I can supply-, I am not going to deny her that simply because it will take up my own time.”

McCoy sighed. What the hell. “I’ve never thought you were heartless, Spock. I just think you don’t let enough people know that you’re not.”

Spock stopped and blinked. “I-” He visibly gathered himself. “I appreciate your honesty.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow. “Honesty is my middle name.”

“Your middle name is Horatio.”

He shrugged. “Close enough. Right initial, anyway.”

Spock shook his head slightly. He had just opened his mouth to offer a retort when instead he tensed and almost ran into the part of Sickbay with the patients. Leonard dashed in after him to find him sitting next to the bed, engaged in a mind-meld with T’ren. He hovered over them, knowing that he shouldn’t disturb an active mind-meld, but also needing to know what was going on. He hurried back to his desk and commed Dr. M’benga’s personal quarters. He waited impatiently for him to answer, and burst in speech as soon as his tired face appeared on the viewer. “I think we might need you down here, Geoffrey. Spock just rushed to T’ren’s bed and started a meld with her. I don’t know what’s going on, but I think it might be bad, Spock looked worried.”

M’benga shook his head to clear it. “Okay, I’m heading down. Don’t disturb them, they probably need to be melded.” The viewer went blank before he could grumble that he knew _that_ , he did hold a Starfleet medical license after all. He went back in to the bed and was joined minutes later by Dr. M’benga. They exchanged a quick, worried look, and then both looked back at the two figures, one leaning over the other, watching for any inkling of what was going on.

“We must not be able to help at all- or at least not nearly enough as Spock is – or he’d have broken the meld, even if only for a minute, and told us,” M’benga muttered nervously.

“Mmm,” McCoy agreed quietly, neither of their gazes straying.

“Which logically means we should probably go and sit down and wait for them to break it and tell us what’s going on.”

“You’ve been spending too much time around them,” McCoy gestured. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’ll be able to do that.”

M’benga sighed. “I can’t.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Silently agreeing, McCoy dragged two chairs over to the foot of the bed and they both sat down to wait.

 

Half an hour later, Spock removed his hand from T’ren’s face and stood up, immediately followed by both McCoy and M’benga leaping to their feet.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is she alright?”

“What happened?”

“Did you fix it?”

“Was it the Romulans?”

Spock raised his hand. “If I may interrupt and give you the answers to your questions?”

Both doctors stopped talking, the CMO still muttering under his breath.

“The Romulans had manipulated her mental state as a… precaution in case she was rescued and tried to tell or recall any potentially valuable information. A time bomb, if you will. It was designed to erase any memory she may have had of the past month.” His tone turned even grimmer. “The fact that it would cause her agonizing pain was apparently of secondary significance.”

“Those…” Bones shook his fist angrily.

“Indeed,” Spock muttered in agreement. “In any case, they had not reckoned on her being almost immediately reached by someone of adequate telepathic prowess. Along with her help, I have managed to ensure she keeps most of her memories, and we stopped the pain before it reached unbearable heights. However, she is still far from alright, and will most likely spend the next 4 or 5 days in a healing trance.”  

“Is there anything we can do to help her?” M’benga asked.

“No, apart from make sure she has adequate nutrients and fluids. As she is a fairly young child, she will require more frequent sustenance than the average Vulcan adult.”

McCoy let out a breath it seemed he’d been holding for the last 30 minutes. “We can do that.”

“If there’s nothing I can do, I might return to my quarters,” M’benga said, yawning. “Keep me updated?”

“Sure,” McCoy said. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were that tired.”

M’benga smiled. “I didn’t either until just now. Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

The African doctor nodded and left.

“So,” McCoy turned to Spock. “We were lucky you were here.”

“Indeed T’ren was, yes.”

McCoy sighed. “Come sit down and have a drink with me, Spock.”

“You are aware alcohol has no measurable effect on me?”

“Yes, I’m aware. I’d have to feed you chocolate if I wanted you drunk. Drink with me anyway. Think of it as a human ritual.”

Spock nodded slightly. “Very well.”

 

Bones waved the block of dark chocolate in front of him slightly drunkenly. “You sure…?” he slurred.

“I am certain that I do not want to achieve the state I see in front of me, yes.”

The (currently off-duty) doctor sat up straighter. “Hobgoblin. Indulge me.”

Spock frowned. “You are currently not in enough control of your own mind to be broadcasting your actual desires, so I am afraid I must refuse.”

He laughed. “Believe me, I have _always_ wanted to get you drunk.”

“I wish to retain my mental capabilities in case T’ren requires further attention.”

“Do you think she will? Answer me honestly, now.”

Spock sighed. “No, I do not believe so.”

Bones made an expansive gesture with the chocolate, almost hitting Spock in the eye. “See? It’ll be fine. And I’ll win a bottle of really good Romulan ale.”

“Very well.”

“Ha!” Bones exclaimed. “Knew you couldn’t pass up the chance to annoy your boyfriend!” Almost as an afterthought, he handed him the chocolate. “Here.”

 

Spock poked Bones again, immediately followed by Bones poking him back and both giggling, completely and utterly drunk. The door to Spock's quarters whooshed open and Jim stopped just in front of the entrance, staring in shock at the scene in front of him. “Um. Guys?” he said, causing two heads to whip around and stare at him, then both start laughing again. “Okay, this is weird. Bones, did you get my Vulcan drunk?”

Spock nodded. “I am… indeed… utterly inebriated.”

Jim nodded. “Right. I thought the odd feelings I was getting must have been coming from you. Oh, damn. I need to give you my good ale now, don’t I?”

Bones lifted his hand slowly. “That’s right!”

“Okay, but right now you both need to sober up, because one of you is on duty in an hour, and the other one is distracting me, and I’m on duty right now.” Jim turned to the replicator. “Two coffees, black, strong, with three sugars each.” He picked them up and planted them in front of his two friends. “Drink these. And get more when you’ve finished them. I need to go back to the bridge.”

Spock obediently reached for the one in front of him. Bones rolled his eyes and stared at Jim. Jim raised his eyebrows.

“Go on then.”

“Not until you start drinking.”

He rolled his eyes again and took a sip of the coffee. “Satisfied?”

“Sure. I’m going,” Jim replied, opening the door.

 

The next morning, Spock walked to Sickbay. He stood in the doctor’s office and waited for Bones to come out. “Doctor,” he greeted him. “Do you have axpelellin on hand?”

Bones tried and failed to restrain a grin. “Do you have a hangover? I would’ve thought those perfect Vulcan systems wouldn’t get hangovers.”

“Doctor.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, wandering over to his supply drawer and pulling out two of the generic pain medication pills. He handed them to Spock. “Here you go. Now, I’m working, so go. And my head isn’t feeling the best either. Last night was fun though.”

Spock nodded and left. Bones shook his head and returned to work.


End file.
